Pity My Wife

If you’re a fan of Back to the Future (yes, I know it’s an oldie; well, it’s an oldie back where I come from) you may noticed that Doc Brown was a bachelor in 1985, 1955 and 2015. Did you ever wonder why?

Of course not.

One hundred twenty-seven clocks and a studio apartment-sized amplifier (with a very slight chance of overload). The guy talks to pictures, and names his pets after famous scientists; and all the scientists are male – where the heck was Marie Curie given his polonium fascination?

Then there was his unquenchable thirst for knowledge. (“Is this a robbery?” “No, it’s a science experiment!”)

Emmett Brown was the penultimate absent minded, obsessive compulsive, mad AND absent minded scientist. It was only when, after trying three other time periods, he finally met the right woman. A teacher with a love of real science who was also enamored with science fiction. The one woman for him.

Incidentally, it’s curious that his time machine needed to hit 88; when ham radio operators send “88” in Morse Code it means “Love & Kisses.”

On the other hand, my wife is the only woman for me. However, for her it’s kind of like living with Doc Brown. I drag home all kinds of things to feed my science habit. Don’t look in the bottles and jars on my microscope table unless you really like unusual insects and such.

Me: “Well, the other ones are busy and this one will be running software defined radio.”

Wife: “But didn’t you just sell one on eBay?”

Me: “Yes, but that couldn’t run actual Android, so none of the apps I need will run.”

Wife: “Well, you ask a stupid question and you get…”

Now, in all fairness I do have some good points, I cook; I help around the house; I chauffer kids, and when it comes to their science projects, it’s all mine. I even handle the student driver issues. However, to the other wives out there—if you get frustrated by clothes left on the floor; if you don’t understand why your husband who has a PhD in electrical engineering can’t run the dishwasher; if your husband collects old cars, or beer cans, or golfs every weekend…

One response to “Pity My Wife”

Go ahead, Steve, admit it. This is a secret tribute to YOUR wife. It reminds me of the guy who speaks to his doc and says: “I have a ‘friend’ with these symptoms…”

In addition to all our eccentricities, and all we do and don’t do–wives know who we are and who we are not. How scary is that? And they stick with us, and even love us because of who THEY are.

We–men–do the same with our toys. Then, ultimately, we one day awaken to really SEE and appreciate and love our wives…and we tell them in many ways by picking up clothes, holding their hand, or in written tribute.